Lunch at Whispering Reeds. That's either a 'the cameraman is doing something funny' or 'plotting to take over the world mwahahaha' grin that Sarah's sporting there. And I don't remember doing anything funny. Ever. Featuring a rare sight in the background - Andrew not eating something. Cheesecake, we salute you, sir.
The gang doing boaty type things at White Slea, or possibly Deep Go Dyke. It's easy to confuse the two.
This looks a lot like Alistair trying to tack with his topping lift on. That's because it is Alistair trying to tack with his topping lift on. But it's not a mistake, oh no. He has to sail that way, otherwise he'd just leave the rest of us standing.
Tom, Dan and Chris stand bank-side to watch something interesting. Sarah feels the need to share another of her grins with us. Thanks, Sarah.
The crew of Bure Classic (or possibly Tarn) enjoying a hearty lunch. From the left: Chris, Tim, (someone who's name eludes us - Craig?), Henry and Iain. Chris is also looking slightly menacing here for some reason. Perhaps some fool with a camera is interrupting his lunch. Honestly, some people eh?
Sarah brings the sandwiches. Chris eats them. I think we can all learn a valuable lesson from this, which is... on Mallards... er, sandwiches... get eaten.
Hev distributes much needed juice, while Chris explains the widegame. "This... is a tennis ball." [murmurs of approval and much nodding]
Somehow, post widegame, Sasha and Kirsten still have that wild, crazy energy that makes Mallards leaders so utterly exhausted after a week on camp, so they decide to vault a gate. Or they could be levitating. It's a little hard to tell.
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